Hope for the Best
by resina
Summary: Draco and Hermione, partners in the Auror Department for six months, ruffle the feathers of a residual cell of Voldemort supporters; Blaise and Ginny must talk their friends into jumping off the cliff that they alone can clearly see is set about three feet off the ground. On hiatus - feelings resolved, but not the plot.
1. Chapter 1

Thursday Morning, March 30, 2000

"Are you _sure_ you don't want to go with me this Saturday to the Minister's birthday ball?"

_Oh good gods, _she thought, rolling her amber eyes at the well-dressed, insistent man lounging at his desk across the room from her. "Positive. You really enjoy putting me in a bad mood on Thursdays, don't you, Malfoy?" _Why am I saying no? Oh that's right, I hate these types of events._

"I don't know what you're on about, Granger. If anything I've been trying for a month to put you in a _good_ mood this _Saturday_." She caught the lofty look that went right along with his wryly amused tone.

"You're trying to put me in a good mood by making me dress up and dance?" she scoffed.

"Yes, it'd be to your benefit. You work too much, Granger; you need to get out and live a little, mingle with other members of the species." He paused at the sight of her narrowed eyes before huffing dramatically. "I'm beginning to think you just don't like me."

That did it. She looked away and broke into a grin, finally losing the battle to keep a straight face. "You work just as much as I do! And I'm one of about three people in the entire Ministry who can stand to talk with you for more than five minutes, you prat."

His brow furrowed in thought for a moment. "Who are the other two?"

Hermione gave an unladylike snort. "Do the names Zabini and Nott ring a bell?"

"Well yes," he conceded, "but while they may not be complete idiots, I can't exactly take them as dates to social functions now can I? Potty and Weasel might get the wrong idea."

She glared at him, pursing her lips in annoyance for the poke at her two friends. "You still won't like how they act if you show up with me," she said, remembering the fit Ron and Harry threw when they realized she wasn't going to apply for a different partner. They still only semi-tolerated Draco, although Harry was honorable enough to stay professional while working with him. "Just take one of the secretaries who are always batting their eyelashes at you."

"Ah but you see the problem there is that they bore me out of my mind. You already pointed out that I can only talk _with_ a few people here. I can only talk _t_o the simpering secretaries."

Hermione tilted her head back and stared at him appraisingly, trying to figure out her partner's new desire for being able to hold a conversation with his dates. Draco kept up the mildly amused, somewhat aloof front he generally wore while bantering with her. Merlin, but the man was hard to read, although she liked to think she had spent enough time with the blond by now to know him better than most. People saw what he allowed them to see, which was helpful considering all the undercover work he did. It was very rarely that he displayed any deeper emotions, having been taught from a young age that wearing one's heart on one's sleeve was weakness. Unfortunately for most people, Malfoy didn't consider arrogance, impatience, or contempt of others' stupidity as anything he needed to hide - something that had resulted in him being shuffled from person to person before the Department Head dropped him in her lap.

"Did you just work that out or are you finally tired of sleeping around with the floozies your mother sets you up with?" Not that it concerned her, but she was curious. They were still young, but she eventually expected him to settle down with a Pureblooded witch from one of the old Wizarding families. As did everyone else, despite his revamped views on blood purity following the war; his reputation may have suffered greatly in recent years, but that had never seemed to deter the ladies who still chased after his body, pedigree, and money.

Smirking, he waved the question away. "It's just the pointless nattering I'd like a break from." Pausing to raise his eyebrows and look at her seriously, he added, "I'm a little pickier nowadays in any case."

She closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. _Am I really doing this?_ "Fine, Malfoy. I'll save your brain from turning to mush on Saturday. Not like we don't already spend too much time together."

"You'll go?" he asked, showing his surprise.

"That's what I said didn't I?" Was it her imagination or did he seem almost... relieved?

* * *

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had been Aurors in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for six months, working together to find the many Death Eaters who had escaped capture after the Final Battle at Hogwarts.

Draco's punishment for allowing Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts and attempting to kill Dumbledore back in sixth year started with a year of house arrest with his mother at Malfoy Manor. The Wizengamot decided that besides that and taking a quarter of the Malfoy fortune for war reparations, they would also make the young man useful upon his release. After all, he had hardly been as eager as many of the other Death Eaters to take the Dark Mark and follow Voldemort's orders. Along with all the knowledge and shady connections that came with possessing the Malfoy name, he was quite bright and resourceful, so it was decided that Draco would complete a year of Auror training and then work at the DMLE for a minimum of four years.

He wasn't thrilled, especially when he found out he wouldn't be working by himself, but it beat being Kissed by the Dementors like his father.

The Golden Trio had enrolled in a year of Auror training once they finished their seventh year at Hogwarts, with Hermione adding a few months on to the standard program length to focus on field medicine, and Ron dropping out halfway through to help George run the joke shop. She had barely been at the DMLE for a month before Malfoy got placed with her... he made, if possible, an even bigger fuss about working with her than he had with any of his other partners. But she stuck it out to spite him, knowing at the very least he wasn't going to be overly impulsive and force her to deal with his mistakes all the time. Not to mention he wasn't bad to look at.

Their current trust in one another probably had a lot to do with saving each other's neck on a regular basis, but Hermione liked to think that they had eased into a sort of friendship too. Draco seemed to respect her abilities more than he did anyone else's in the department - at least if the insults and scowls everyone else regularly received were anything to go by - and now, he had asked her on what most would consider a date.

That realization took over Hermione's train of thought and gave her an unfamiliar giddy feeling, a fluttering in her belly - the possible reason for which was promptly beaten down and manhandled into a deep corner of her mind. She was still able to smile slightly at how unlikely it sounded though: _Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and Slytherin Pureblood Prince, my partner, just asked me, the Muggleborn Gryffindor Princess and brains of the Golden Trio on a date, didn't he? A nonromantic date, of course, but still... this is not going to go over well with Harry and Ron. And I'm pretty sure Hell just froze over._

_Merlin, I didn't think she'd ever agree,_ thought Draco, watching his partner concentrate on finishing up the paperwork for their most recent case. He had patiently been asking Hermione every Thursday for the past four weeks if she would come with him to the ball. For four weeks, he had known an attack was going to happen on Saturday night at some unknown location from one of the underground Death Eater cells he'd wormed his way into. The only people in the Ministry who knew were him, the Department Head, and the Minister himself, who had ordered, without much explanation, that slightly more Aurors than usual be on duty that night - preparing for a full-scale attack would be too obvious, so the Minister wanted to appear as just being a bit overcautious. Draco's connections in this cell were worth the minimal collateral damage expected from the attack, so no definite action was taken.

If too many people caught wind that he had supplied this information, his cover as a Ministry leak would be toast. Burnt toast. All that work down the drain and an avada for his trouble. He wanted to tell Hermione, but was discouraged by both his superiors and his instincts. If the attack happened at the birthday ball, other Aurors would be present and she would be where he could protect her. If - and this was a worry he had only mentioned in passing to the people he was reporting to - the underground murmurs of getting back at the Golden Trio were to be believed, he didn't want Hermione anywhere near her flat while nearly everyone she knew was out of reach at the ball. Spies in the Ministry would report that she almost never attended such events, and as a result, would be a sitting duck if the cell chose to target her.

Not that she couldn't defend herself; she was the most capable witch he knew. But strong wards and a single witch's Stunners wouldn't be enough to overcome a group of determined Voldemort sympathizers with more than a few brain cells between them. Telling her would only make her want to bring in a group of Aurors to lay in wait while she used herself as bait. _Gryffindors, I swear. _It was out of the question. Not only would she be risking herself unnecessarily, but the attackers would know that Hermione had been tipped off and Aurors had been ordered in to protect his partner. His famous, very-much-known-to-be-his-partner partner for whom he did not much care to find a replacement. Usually he went undercover using glamour spells or Polyjuice, but this latest case had required him to go in as himself, acting like he had access to confidential Auror information and wanted to go back to his old ways.

Her parents, another possible target, had remained under Ministry protection ever since the war so that wasn't his worry. Nor was the Potters' flat or Weasleys' hovel, but that was because he simply didn't care about the Golden Trio farther than his own third went - Potter he only tolerated for Hermione's sake and because they shared a workplace, but Weasel was still an obnoxious arse who wouldn't drop the subject of Draco's past. He had resigned himself a few months back to the fact that he cared in some way for the stubborn, curly-haired know-it-all, but refused to think about it any more in-depth than that; nothing would come of it anyway. They worked well together, and she no longer hesitated or looked suspiciously at him like the majority of the building, which was all that mattered at the moment. He refused to let one of the few friendly faces he had a legitimate claim to in this world be taken away.

* * *

"What?! Why am I only finding out about this _now_?" Ginny cried, chastising her friend during their lunch break in Diagon Alley.

"Well I only said yes on Thursday," Hermione explained, patiently weathering the lightning storm of indignation that was Harry's fiancee and the Holyhead Harpies' seeker.

"I would've thought Malfoy of all people would know you needed more than a couple of days to get ready for something formal like this, being as you _never go_."

"Oh, you're on about the timing? He's been asking every Thursday for a month. I've just kept saying no is all."

"_What?_ I can't believe this! Well now we're really going to have to make you look good."

"Ginny, I already told you it's not a romantic date; we work together, and he's still Malfoy."

"Yes he is _Malfoy_, the albino ferret who used to treat you like scum on a daily basis in school, who now treats you with a sort of respect and possessiveness that I've never seen him direct at anyone else." Ginny remembered one morning just a couple of months earlier that she had visited Harry down in the DMLE and decided to drop in on Hermione to coordinate their lunch plans for the day. She stopped short in the doorway to Hermione and Malfoy's joint office upon seeing Malfoy seated at her friend's desk with his feet up and his arms crossed. Watching Hermione sleep, obviously deep in thought. _I was under the impression these two were past the planning-each-other's-demise phase, but apparently not,_ she had mused. Clearing her throat to announce her presence, Ginny was awarded with a gratifying jump on Malfoy's part. And a brief flash of defensiveness in his silver eyes before the expression smoothed over and he proceeded to ask what she wanted. Quietly, so as not to wake his sleeping partner. _Interesting._

"He's pretty affectionate toward his Mum," Hermione muttered uncomfortably, a slight blush staining her cheeks. Ginny just looked at her narrowly. "Honestly Gin, he's no stranger to sleeping around - although he does seem to be getting better about that; but still, it's not like he's holding out for someone special so get it out of your head."

"I bet he doesn't look at any of those bimbos like a dog guarding a bone, though."

"Just let it go!" Hermione finally cried, refusing to let Ginny give her any kind of hope in something so clearly hopeless. "We both know he's going to marry some rich Pureblood girl, so it's a dead-end anyway. And we _work_ together! He's probably just glad he has someone in the department who won't get him killed."

"Accidentally, or on purpose?" Ginny couldn't help asking dryly, pleased that she had finally managed to get a reaction from Hermione and now content to leave the subject for another time.

"Both." The other Aurors held Draco in as much contempt as he did them; most didn't trust him as far as they could throw him, despite having proved his worth on numerous occasions. He still occasionally found that the Aurors meant to work with him on group assignments tended to disappear, leaving him uncovered and alone to deal with the enemy. He had reluctantly admitted this to Hermione after getting injured a few times and she grilled him about how he always seemed to take curses to the back. It had taken persistence and an unexpected display of worry mixed with anger on her part, and pain medication and being confined to a hospital bed on his to pry out the truth. She was sure it happened more often than Draco was letting on too, so from then on she did her best to make certain either she, Harry, or Theo were present to keep him safe in the field. She also thoroughly chewed out the Aurors who had disappeared on him; _that_ had been entertaining for Draco, and a warning to everyone else in the department who still viewed him as a Death Eater.

Ginny's voice cut into her memories. "So do you want to go shopping for dress robes tonight after work? Tomorrow too if we don't find anything right off the bat. Then we can get ready at my place on Saturday."

"Sure, Gin. That sounds like a plan."

* * *

Near the Ministry of Magic's entrance in Muggle London, Draco sat down to lunch at a cafe with Blaise Zabini who had worked his way up to a few positions beneath the Head of Magical Sporting Events and Regulations. Blaise kept professional Quidditch players' brooms up to regulation standards, and was the go-to man for free Quidditch tickets - free for a favor of course. The suave Slytherin had never taken the Dark Mark, his family preferring to stay neutral in the war, so he escaped the fate of Draco and Theo who were now stuck in the Aurors' department.

"You look like shit, mate," Blaise stated bluntly; the dark circles under his friend's grey eyes spoke of sleepless nights, most likely from the nightmares he had about Voldemort's stay at Malfoy Manor and the war in general.

"Why thank you Blaise, I didn't realize you cared."

"I don't really, except when I'm forced to look at you for extended periods of time. What's happening with your pretty lioness? She finally agree to go to the ball or are you going to have to kidnap her?" Blaise was aware that Draco felt his partner would be in danger the night of the ball for reasons the blond could not disclose.

"She gave in today. Just in time too. I had to hit her from the angle that I was tired of not being able to hold a conversation with the girls I normally take out."

"Are you?" Blaise inquired, eyebrow raised.

"Am I what?"

"Tired of not being able to hold a conversation with all the empty-headed birds you bring home to shag?"

Draco fixed him with a glare. "Perhaps. But as you so eloquently put it, I don't take them to fine restaurants expecting intellectually stimulating discussions."

"Right, that's what you have Granger for. Oh, last time she came to say hello, I overheard Smith and MacLeary in my department chatting about how difficult she might be to get in the sack. Theo also seems to be paying more attention to her lately, if you get my drift."

"What exactly are you getting at Zabini?" Draco replied evenly, doing his best not to look like he was going to maim someone very shortly.

Blaise sat back with a sly smile. "Only that you should figure out why I'm currently rather frightened for the men I just named off. I was actually kidding about Theo, but the other two deserve it I suppose."

"I already told you, she's the only person besides you and Nott I actually talk to in the whole building. It's natural that I'm protective of her; she's one of the few Aurors I trust not to hex me when my back is turned or let me die from sheer incompetence."

"Sounds like you think very highly of her," Blaise said in his best 'yes, go on' voice.

"Everyone thinks highly of her! She's bloody _Granger_! She probably could have given old Mad-Eye a run for his money with all the spells shoved in that big head of hers."

Blaise grinned. "And what a lovely head it is, don't you think?"

"Shut up, Blaise. I don't like what you're implying."

This made Blaise smile even wider than he already was, enjoying the game he was playing with his friend's head, which would hopefully end with Draco realizing he had certain feelings for the brunette in question. "I'm implying that you should get your head out of your arse and take action before some bastard who won't respect her like MacLeary, does."

With a sigh, Draco finally capitulated to his nosey friend who refused to let this go. "Even if that was something I wanted, it's not like she would actually consider saying yes; I bullied her mercilessly in school. She knows I used to sleep around a lot, knows that my mother wouldn't welcome her with open arms. Merlin, she was tortured in my _house_ by my aunt! While I _watched_! Plus Granger was practically the poster child for the Light during the war, along with The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die and Weasel, both of whom are _still _quite attached to her and quite opposed to me."

"Have you apologized for all the crap you gave her in school?"

"Of course I have, you idiot," he snapped.

"How about the torture?" Blaise continued, unaffected.

"Months ago, although she still has nightmares about Bellatrix every now and again. Do you think we could work together hardly at all if we had those things hanging over our heads? But that's another thing. She probably wouldn't say yes for the simple fact that we're partners."

"Well her godsawful taste in friends and being coworkers may be issues, but all that drivel about being on different sides is pointless now. She's quite obviously put it behind her."

"How can you know that?" Draco asked, not wanting to start hoping for more than he already had for fear of losing it all on a gamble.

"The way she interacts with you now is comfortable; you used to make her tense up like a rubber band, remember? And if the past has ceased to matter to you, why would it matter to her? She's always been a bleeding heart anyway, so getting a second chance was nearly a given so long as you were sincere."

"Alright fine. If you were in my shoes, how would you _theoretically _proceed?"

"Well you are going on a date aren't you? Don't go all out Casanova on her, it'd freak her out, but at least show off your dancing skills and be a gentleman." A mischievous glint suddenly came into his eyes. "Maybe you could get together in secret with the She-Weasel. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to meddle in her friend's love life."

"No," came the flat reply.

"Hmm. You know, I might just talk to Little Red myself. I won't even count it as a favor you need to pay me back for," Blaise went on, seriously considering following through, and having far too much fun with this in Draco's opinion.

"Joy," Draco said, in a tone that indicated he felt anything but. "Whatever the hell you end up deciding to do, don't let Granger catch on. I'm going to return to the office." With that he got up and began the short walk back.

Blaise stared after him for a moment, his 'plotting' look firmly in place. Looked like Weaselette would be getting an owl soon.

* * *

The rest of the work day passed without incident for Hermione, although Draco had seemed rather quiet when he returned from lunch. She didn't mind; it gave her a chance to sort through the conversation she'd had with Ginny earlier.

What would she do if her friend was right, if Malfoy's feelings were more than friendly? Did he really look at her like that? Would she jump in? _Should_ she jump in? What scared her was that she _wanted_ to, really wanted to see if, given the chance, it could ever pan out between two former enemies.

Draco's thoughts were also busy, and one thing in particular was bothering him. Turning to Hermione suddenly, he asked, "Hey Granger, by any chance do you know Smith or MacLeary from Blaise's department?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Well Smith was in here just the other day asking about confiscation procedures for broomsticks, all very run-of-the-mill material really, and MacLeary - well, I don't think I could pick him out of a lineup but the name is familiar. Why do you ask?"

Keeping his eyes on the file in front of him, he told her, "They're not a good sort. Just thought you may want to know." He was slightly flushed with anger at the idea of Smith stopping in while he wasn't there, but managed to keep his face blank.

Hermione wondered what he had found out today that gave him the opinion that the two men were bad news. "Was it something Blaise said?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me what it was if I ask?"

"No."

She considered this and raised an eyebrow. "Do I _want _to know?"

"Probably not."

"Alright then," she said resignedly, trusting his judgment.

A few minutes passed in silence, and five o'clock was drawing near. Draco had to come back at seven to check in and make a drop in a Muggle park; he would be supplying the cell he'd infiltrated with outdated information on the Ministry yet again. It was nothing very dangerous, so Hermione didn't feel it was necessary to back him up, or hang back in case he needed patching up afterwards. They could communicate using galleons spelled with a Protean Charm anyway. If Draco needed her he would grasp his own galleon and concentrate on where he was, and the coin she always carried in her pocket would heat up and display his location. The coins had come in handy on more than one occasion; Hermione used her training as a field medic more than she ever wanted to.

"Are you set for tonight?" she asked as she got ready to go meet up with Ginny.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. Gunther" - his high-ranking liaison in the cell - "seemed pretty convinced I'm committed to the cause when I looked through his thoughts with a discreet _Legilimens_ during the last meeting. He didn't realize skilled Occlumens could lie with their memories. Unless he's also an Occlumens and I'm getting played. But that's a bit of a leap."

"Agreed. It's going to be at that one park in Wales right?"

"Yes. If I do need you to come, apparate into that patch of bushes a few hundred feet away from the drop point, the ones south of the pond."

"Got it. I'm going to be in Diagon Alley shopping for a dress with Ginny; did you want anything?"

"No, I'm good... But tell her to ignore any owls she receives from Zabini," Draco answered cryptically.

This request was met with raised eyebrows. "Will do. Be careful."

"Always," he replied, giving her a reassuring smile as she headed to the door and left.

* * *

Hermione and Ginny raided the four formal shops in Diagon Alley that were still open before they found the right gown - a flowing, sleeveless, ivory-with-gold-trim Grecian style dress.

"I know just how to do your hair with this one. Now we can get those strappy gold sandals you liked too; I know how much you hate walking in heels," Ginny giggled.

"They're death traps! I don't -" she cut off in the middle of what was going to be an entertaining rant about women objectifying themselves as the galleon in her pocket heated up. No longer paying attention to Ginny, she grabbed it and squinted to read it in the failing light. '_Your flat. Blood.'_

Hermione blanched, and turning back to Ginny who was in the middle of demanding to know what was going on, she interrupted in a rushed voice, "It's Malfoy. He's back at my flat and he's hurt. I need to go, Gin, bye." She turned on the spot and apparated back to her flat, leaving Ginny staring at the space she had occupied a second earlier.

Malfoy was on the kitchen floor, groaning faintly and _covered_ in blood, and she rushed over to him while digging in her bottomless beaded bag for the blood replenishing potion he was going to need. "Malfoy. Malfoy! _Draco!_" That seemed to get his attention; his eyes cracked open to watch as she felt how weak his pulse was. "Her-muh-my-nee..." he choked out as she quickly brushed back the hair on his forehead and shh'ed him before grabbing her wand. She scrambled to stem the bleeding from what seemed to be long, shallow gashes all over his body using a healing spell to disinfect the wounds and knit the skin back together. Cutting off his shirt, she could see a couple of gashes on his torso that had damaged the muscle as well, so she used a different spell to mend the fibers, covering the wounds with gauze until they'd be completely healed over a few hours later.

Easing his head up onto her lap, Hermione uncorked the blood replenishing potion with her teeth and set it to his lips. "Come on, Draco, come _on_, swallow it, _damnit_," she muttered worriedly. Draco was still conscious enough to follow her directions, and she sighed in relief as he finished the potion before passing out. Waving her wand over the length of his body, she checked for internal injuries, only finding a splinched spleen which was quickly taken care of with another spell.

She felt for his pulse again, finding it reassuringly stronger than before. Sighing in relief, Hermione vanished the blood all over her clothes, her partner and her kitchen floor before levitating him through the living room, to her own room and onto the unmade bed. The blond was pale, even more so than usual, but that was to be expected considering how much blood he had lost. She was amazed he had managed to apparate to her flat in this condition, and was glad she had changed the wards to let him in a while back.

Removing his shoes, Hermione placed them by the door. She then began tugging the tangled blue blankets out from underneath the man, before untangling and replacing them over his prostrate form. Deciding it was best to let him sleep through the night, she went into the guest bedroom that doubled as a library to pull down the covers on the lumpy bed. She would get the whole story in the morning.

Going back to her kitchen, which thankfully no longer looked like a war zone, Hermione gathered up the day's purchases to place in her closet. She paused in the doorway of her bedroom and couldn't help but smirk a little. Draco Malfoy was in her _bed_.


	2. Chapter 2

In the middle of the night, Hermione woke up to the sound of moaning and rustling in the other bedroom. She reached up to rub the sleep out of her eyes and looked to the clock on the nightstand. 2:32AM. Getting up, she crept into the master bedroom where Draco was thrashing around on top of the sheets, clearly in the throes of a nightmare. She sat on his left side, reaching across to lightly shake his right shoulder. "Draco, wake up. Wake up, it's not real," she said softly. She continued trying to rouse him, encouraged when he stopped thrashing as much, placing her right hand on his forehead to check for fever. Without so much as opening his eyes to look at her, Draco grabbed her waist and sharply pulled her down to him, tucking the startled woman into his chest like a teddy bear before relaxing altogether.

Hermione squirmed in his arms before deciding there was no way she was going to get free of his vice-like grip. Heaving a sigh she tried to pull some of the sheets back over them, and leaned her forehead into the crook between his neck and shoulder. If he hadn't almost died earlier and then suffered what looked to be a terrible nightmare, she would have been free to say that this was nice, being wrapped up in his arms, pulled up against his hard, warm body. Against his bare, Auror training- and Quidditch-honed chest. _Oh gods. He smells like pine trees,_ she couldn't help but think before wanting to smack herself for noticing. _Just go to sleep, just go to sleep._

Going back to sleep turned out to be surprisingly easy for both of them. Waking up to Hermione's 6:30AM alarm, Draco reached over to shut it off and turned back to looking at a head full of wavy chocolate curls and steady puffs of warm air on his collarbone. Hermione's soft, pyjama-clad body was draped over and slightly to the side of his, acting like a heavy blanket. He inhaled her spicy scent, reminded of the chai tea she always liked to drink. _This is an excellent way to wake up,_ he groggily decided, before drifting back to sleep. No way they were going in to work today. Nuh-_uh_. He practically bled out the night before and now he positively _refused_ to move until he had to. Barring the fact that he was still wearing pants, he was much too comfortable...

* * *

Hermione awoke to bright light pouring through the window and someone who sounded like Ginny pounding on the door. Remembering where she was exactly, she blushed and looked up to see if Draco was awake. Her amber gaze was met with hooded silver eyes, causing something in the pit of her belly to prance around and yell at her to _do_ something. "Er... I should probably. Um. Get that," she stuttered, looking away and disentangling herself from his limbs. She didn't dare to look, but was sure he was still watching as she covered up the sleep shorts and tank top she wore with a robe and walked out of the room.

"Hermione, open up! I know you're here! I know _Malfoy _is here!" Quickly opening the door, Hermione ushered her friend in, who set down a shopping bag and peered around attempting to catch a glimpse of a certain ferret. "I got you those sandals you liked," she explained absently. "He's okay, right? He didn't die or anything."

"Yes Ginny, he's going to be just fine. He's in the master bedroom."

"Good to hear. I picked these up yesterday once you abandoned me, and Harry mentioned neither of you showed up for work today - which we took care of for you both by the way, so don't worry about owling in sick - so like the wonderful, gossip-hungry friend I am, I decided to take the rest of yet _another _day off to come and check on you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Thanks. What time is it anyway?"

"About ten in the morning. Didn't you set your alarm?"

"Yeah, it usually goes off at half six but we must have slept through it." _Uh-oh._ Ginny seemed to catch on to her slip.

"_We?_ What exactly were the sleeping arrangements last night?"

Just then the door to Hermione's bedroom cracked open and Malfoy's head peeked out. "Granger, I'm going to shower while Weaselette hounds you for the gory details, alright?"

"That's fine. You can take the gauze off now too," Hermione said with a blush that made him smirk before ducking his head back into the bedroom._ Prat. He's enjoying this._

"What _happened_ last night?" Ginny hissed, pulling her over to sit down on the cushy couch.

"Well I apparated home to find him covered in blood on the kitchen floor. He was all gashed up, really awful, Gin. Last night's assignment must have turned out badly; I'm surprised they didn't kill him outright. Once I healed him, I floated him onto my bed and left him there. I started out sleeping in the guest bedroom, I swear," Hermione explained earnestly.

"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me. Now how'd you end up in the same bed?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night when he was having a particularly violent nightmare. Tried to go shake him out of it but he pulled me down without even waking up! _Merlin, _that man is strong."

Ginny grinned at that. "So how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Sleeping together! Did you guys fit well? Does he smell good? Were you wearing a bra?"

"Ginny! We may have slept together but we didn't _sleep_ together," she said, turning red as a tomato, before adding in a small voice, "and no I was not, and yes, he does."

Ginny chuckled, before starting to ask the more serious questions. "How did you feel when you were afraid he was going to die?"

Hermione looked down at the suddenly fascinating area rug before quietly replying. "Like a part of me was ripped out of my chest. I just remember thinking, 'He has to be okay, he _has_ to be.'"

"How did he act when you woke up? Like it never happened, or joking or what?"

"I woke up when you started knocking on the door and yelling loud enough to disturb the neighbors," she glared. "I was draped all over him, looked up and saw him looking back at me. _I _felt awkward, but I couldn't read _his_ face."

"Curious. Oh and Blaise Zabini sent me a letter today. Seemed kind of odd, but he was asking if I wanted to meet for lunch today to discuss some business. Harry was fine with it when I told him, but I wanted to run it by you."

Smiling, Hermione told her red-haired friend about Draco's comment from the other night that she'd forgotten until now. "I think you should check it out, just because. I'm sure it's nothing that will put you in mortal peril; I mean, it's Blaise after all."

Ginny stood up to go, and Hermione joined her to walk to the door. "Alright, I'll tell you about it tomorrow when you come to our flat. Two in the afternoon, right?"

"Yes Gin, I'll be there unless I owl you something different."

"Oh and 'Mione dear - there's a naked Draco Malfoy in your bathroom," the redhead added wickedly before stepping out the door. "Go take advantage of the man."

"Goodbye, Ginny," came the curt response, punctuated by the door closing. Hermione went back to the living room and collapsed on the couch with a sigh, just as the door to her bedroom opened and Malfoy stepped out. He was in his clothes from the night before, wrinkled but magically cleaned and restored to their former wearable state. His hair was damp and falling over his forehead, and his shirt was untucked, but centuries of selective Malfoy breeding would not allow him to look anything other than put together, even now. She tamped down the hint of jealousy to ask how he was feeling.

"Fine, thanks to you. Do you want to hear the story now or shower first?"

"I think a shower is in order. Don't worry about sending in for a sick day; Ginny already took care of it," Hermione said, getting up to go into her bedroom and make herself presentable.

Draco walked around the room his partner had just vacated, content to look at the many pictures on the walls and rolling his eyes at the obvious red-and-gold Gryffindor color scheme. He had only been here a couple of times, just brief visits to pick up things related to work. He saw multiple unmoving shots of her parents, some seeming to be from vacations in various places, most of them with Hermione in the frame as well. There was one of just her from a past Christmas; her seven or eight self was crouching above a present she'd opened, grinning and showing off the space where she had lost her two front teeth. This one made him smile.

The other photos were all moving ones from the Wizarding World. There was a large frame filled with members of the Order of the Pheonix, up to date as of the last war. Others showed her, Ron, Harry, and Ginny posed together for various moments throughout their lives. He scowled slightly, thankful that none of the ones from the brief time Ron and Hermione were together were present; when Draco and Hermione first became partners, he had teased her and constantly probed for weak spots to exploit at a later date. When he asked if she had tied the knot with Weasel yet and bred lots of little rodents, she frowned heavily at him, a bit of hurt present but well-masked in her dark eyes. "No," she told him. "That would never have worked out; we decided to stay friends after a few months." "Did it end badly or something, Granger? You don't still want him after all this time, do you?" "No, it was just awkward," she said, starting to look uncomfortable. "Well what is it then? He got back on the horse and you didn't?" That seemed to hit a nerve. She stood there, flushing red and looking at her feet. "I doubt you care, Malfoy. Just get back to work." And that was that.

He stopped at one picture in a fairly visible space on the wall. This was the only one of Draco and Hermione; it had been taken on Valentine's Day, a month and a half ago. They were on an assignment that took them to Paris, where Draco had needed to meet in person with the leaders of a different Voldemort-loving cell than the one he had dealt with last night. _More like they dealt with _me, he thought dryly. Hermione had come to hang around the area, paying attention to the tracking spell dot that represented her partner on a map hidden inside her novel. Paris was far enough away from London for apparating to be risky, and the assignment was dangerous enough to warrant backup. Hermione jumped at the chance to work on the holiday every unattached woman hated; Draco was aware of this, but chose not to say anything. It was better than whatever else she had planned for the day - probably a pity-party of ice cream and sappy Muggle movies.

That evening he had taken her out to one of the nicer cafes along the Seine, one with a view of the Eiffel Tower to celebrate a successful mission. Once they finished eating, they continued chatting quietly and walked out to the riverside. A tap on Draco's shoulder made him spin around quickly; a friendly looking, old Muggle man with a camera started jabbering away at them in French. Hermione didn't know more than a few words, but Draco was fluent, very much so. "Five Euros for a picture together? You make a handsome couple, you two, and it _is_ the night of love in the city of love. Five Euros is certainly worth preserving this memory, my doves."

Hermione understood just enough to know he was asking to take their picture because it was Valentine's Day. "Can we?" she pleaded. Draco looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded, so she pulled out her own magical camera and handed it to the old man. "Ask him to get the Tower in the background." He did so, and the man urged them to get closer - no, _closer_. Draco slipped his arms around Hermione's waist because it felt more natural, trying not to think of how warm and soft she felt once he did - _she's a woman, that's all there is to it_ - and relaxed, looking down at her with a smile. Hermione beamed back up at him before they turned to the flashing camera.

As Draco studied the shot, he looked closely at the expressions on their photo-selves' faces. Those smiles looked... _familiar_. Like the smiles in Hermione's photos of her parents or Harry and Ginny.

Blissful. Adoring. _Loving_.

_No. It's not possible_, was his last coherent thought, as his eyes widened and his heart stopped - before promptly restarting and taking off like a racehorse.

* * *

The cause of the blond man's mental breakdown found him sitting down on the floor against the wall, arms laying on top of his drawn-up knees. She sat down close by him, mirroring his pose and turning her head to peer at her partner. "Malfoy?" she asked softly, slightly worried, not sure what had made him clam up and stare off into space during the half-hour she spent in the bathroom. Draco Malfoy was a tough nut to crack; Hermione wondered if he was reliving the ordeal he must have gone through the night before. She resisted the urge to brush her fingers through the fringe hanging down towards his eyes. "Are you alright?" No answer. Thinking of how his given name had succeeded in grabbing his attention the night before, she gave an anxious, "Draco?"

His head whipped toward her, surprising her, his face now only inches from her own. There was an intense, pleading look in his stormy eyes, as if she was a lifeline and he was treading water in a wind-whipped ocean threatening to drown him. Hermione instinctively reached out, cupping his cheek and stroking his cheekbone with her thumb while she searchingly held his tortured gaze. He leaned into her hand, almost looking like he was going to cry, as she tried one last time to get him to speak, sounding slightly urgent this time. "Draco, love, what's wrong?" the endearment rolling naturally off her lips. He didn't think she meant it, but it broke through the little restraint he had left.

Draco surged toward her, capturing her lips in a hard, desperate kiss, sending intense thrills of heat to her belly. Thought was lost as his hands framed her face, threading into her damp hair, anchoring her to him, and she hungrily returned his advances with a low moan. Hermione's hands went to grab at his shirt, his shoulders, hair, anything she could find. He bit down on her bottom lip, drawing blood and making her gasp before his tongue plunged into her mouth to battle with her own. Easing back down onto the floor, he untangled one hand to wrap it securely around her waist and pull her on top of him. Tearing away from each other for oxygen, Draco immediately set upon the column of Hermione's neck, nipping and sucking his way up to her right ear; he listened to her mewl and pant, felt her writhing on top of him, sure she could feel the evidence of his arousal against her thighs.

Knowing she wasn't experienced and they needed to stop before any clothes came off, although he really wanted nothing more than to continue, he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth, eliciting a faint whimper. "Not now," he murmured hoarsely, causing her tense up and pull back her head to look at him, feelings of rejection clear in her eyes. He tugged her back down to kiss her softly, sweetly on the lips, putting all the tenderness he felt for this woman into it as she relaxed back into him. Pulling back for air, giving her another soft peck, he tucked her head back into his shoulder and buried his face in her curls. He wanted to say the words, but she wasn't ready to hear them quite yet.

They stayed that way for a long time as each calmed down, the position much like how they'd gone to sleep except that now they were both awake, feeling each other's breaths and heartbeats. Draco's hands brushed lightly up and down her sides, hardly believing what had just happened, not wanting to ever let her go. She was pure good in his eyes. And he didn't deserve her, not one bit. But after so many years of being haunted by his own failings, he had found someone who could fill him up with warmth and smile at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, like he was more than he was. She had defended his worth; would keep him on his toes with her stubborn, argumentative nature; made him laugh; had fought alongside him; could match him in discussions; and had saved his sorry arse more times than he could count. And he was in love with her.

Hermione's thoughts were quiet; she had been placated by his words after getting over the initial rejection. 'Not now' could be taken to mean 'later' couldn't it? Something like that at least. The intense physical reaction he brought out in her was something she had never experienced before, having explored being intimate with Ron a little but never feeling like she could stand to let him go all the way. Now she was somewhat glad Draco had stopped them when he had.

She drew idle designs with her finger on the plane of his shoulder, musing about whether they could continue on as partners. She certainly wanted to; she trusted him, had even earned his trust in return which had been more difficult, and, in the end, more satisfying than almost anything else she could think of. They were intellectual equals, unlike anyone else she'd ever gone out with or had to rely on, and he had a dry wit that kept a smile on her face. Draco had proved himself to be a good man, and he looked at her like she was his saving grace.

_But he wouldn't ever consider marrying or even going steady with a Muggleborn_, the insidious voice of her insecurities whispered. She doubted that he saw her as disposable considering the presence of mind he'd had earlier to keep her from doing something she'd regret. However, how serious was he? That look in his eyes was all well and good, but was it because it was _her_ specifically, or because she was _there_ that he pounced on her like that? Would he even consider something long-term with her or was the notion laughable?

"What are you thinking, Hermione?" Draco asked softly, feeling the fingers on his shoulder still their movements while she figured out what she wanted to say.

After some double-digit number of heartbeats, she sat up facing the other direction and began talking in a small voice that cracked near the end. "Are... are you leading me on? Because I don't think I'd be able to take it if you were."

He sat up as well, placing his arm around her and starting to stroke her hair. "What do you mean, love? Leading you on how?"

"Are you going to drop me as soon as you remember I'm still a Muggleborn? That I don't fit into the standard Malfoy plan? Draco, was... _before_ just because... because I was a warm body and you were torn up about last night? I have to know." She finally looked back to him, tears starting to overflow her eyes.

He moved closer to kiss them away, holding her chin to stop her from turning again. He needed to look her in the eyes to say this. "Hermione, you being a Muggleborn has nothing to do with the way I feel for you; you should know that by now. I no longer care about what's expected of me. Haven't for a long time."

"So you actually have feelings for me? You don't care what your mother says?"

"I have very _strong_ feelings for you. Whether or not I get my mother's approval has no bearing on who I decide makes me happy."

"Do _I_ make you happy, Draco?" Hermione had to ask, the tears beginning anew as she allowed herself to hope.

He let her move her face back to the crook of his neck and bent to whisper into her ear, "Very much so, love." He rocked her and rubbed her back, waiting for the brunette to stop crying. When she finally decided she could speak again, she pressed a soft kiss to his throat and leaned back to survey him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Now are you going to tell me how you turned practically catatonic in the time it took me to get ready?"

Sighing, he urged her to stand up and followed suit. "Look at this picture of your parents, and then look at this one of Potter and Ginny. What do they have in common?"

"Hmm. Well, they all look disgustingly happy and in love, if that's what you're getting at."

"Right," he smiled wryly at her description. "Now look at our picture. What do you see?"

Hermione studied their two figures closely. Then she slowly turned back to Draco, an incredulous expression on her face. "The expressions match," she said faintly.

A grin slowly worked its way onto Draco's mouth. "The expressions match," he affirmed in a stronger tone.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So I planned to stop with this just being a two-shot, being my first fic and all. But. There was more... What happened to Draco the other night? Curious? Your curiosity will be satisfied and then some. Promise. Also I have some ideas for the next chapter, but nothing past that is concrete. _Something _happens the night of the ball. I just don't know what. And this is unbeta'ed unless someone wants to step up to the plate after waiting a terribly undetermined length of time for me to write another few thousand words :) plot and characterization if you please. I've skipped meals for you people - something's gonna give, probably starting with my brain.

Thank you anyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed this; I now understand firsthand how nice feedback can make someone dance that loony-happy jig.

Disclaimer: The wonderful world of HP isn't mine. Just thought I'd put that in there. Anyhoo.

* * *

"Hello, Little Weasley, how's being a professional seeker treating you?"

"Fantastic, Zabini. But I got the impression your message didn't have to do with department business," Ginny guessed shrewdly look as she sat down across from Blaise in a corner booth of the Leakey Cauldron.

Blaise smirked. "Very astute, my dear. What do you think it _does_ have to do with?"

"Well I've been thinking about what we have in common, and besides our involvement in Quidditch, I would have to say a couple of idiot friends of ours."

Slightly impressed, and relieved he wouldn't have to convince her that a relationship between Granger and Draco was even possible, Blaise continued with a pensive look on his face. "I'm glad you're aware of the situation. The question now is, are you prepared to do anything about it?"

_Oh if I wasn't in love with Harry_, Ginny thought, a wicked smile coming to her lips. "Short of breaking any of the more serious laws, yes, you could say I'm prepared. You don't happen to have any ready-made plans, do you?"

"As I happen to be the expert on Draco, and you happen to be the expert on Granger, I was hoping we could come up with something together. The dance tomorrow seems to be their best chance in my mind; it'll allow them to see each other in a different light than they do in the workplace."

"That quite possibly could work. I had started thinking of trapping them in a broom closet one of these days, but they're usually together in that office as it is."

"She does have feelings for him, right? You've heard her say it or as good as?"

"She told me she doesn't think there's a chance he would go for her, him being a playboy Pureblood and her being a Muggleborn; seemed to hurt when I poked around the subject the other day at lunch. But the real proof was last night," Ginny paused with a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

"Oh? Do share with the class," Blaise said, his curiosity piqued.

"We were shopping in Diagon Alley for Hermione's dress because Malfoy asked her to the ball that's tomorrow - did you know about that?" He nodded and Ginny went on. "So we were just about done shopping when Hermione gets a message from Malfoy telling her he was injured and to come back to her flat. I dropped in this morning and she told me how torn up she was when she saw him injured... Plus they ended up sharing her _bed_, and sleeping through the alarm," she told him excitedly, evidently pleased with the turn of events.

"I'm going to assume they _only _slept in her bed, or else this meeting would be mostly pointless."

"Yes that's correct. But I think that should answer the question that she is indeed amenable to being more than partners with the twitchy ferret."

Blaise couldn't help but smile at the embarrassing memory of Draco getting turned into a ferret back in Hogwarts. "Well I'm convinced Draco is head-over-heels for the witch. He's protective of her, and doesn't believe she'd ever say yes which, coming from a womanizer, really means something. For so long, Draco's been used to girls chasing after _him_, and now he doesn't know how to return the favor."

"Makes sense. And they've never gotten close enough until now for them to have ever considered the possibility. Both were repulsive, forbidden fruit to each other."

"Exactly. That's another thing he's worried about though - how your brother and darling hubby-to-be are going to take it. He's _such_ a Hufflepuff when he's unsure of himself," Blaise sighed. "How do you feel about spiking their punch with a love potion at the ball? Not even a love potion really, but more of an inhibition-lowering draught."

"You mean like alcohol?" Ginny giggled, raising her eyebrows.

"Actually a lot like alcohol but without any of the physical impairments. I can talk to Theo and get him to slip it to them since they're smart enough to distrust whatever _we'd_ give them. Our jobs are simple: herd them like cattle so they're either talking or dancing together all night," Blaise finished smugly.

"You sneaky Slytherin. That's really an excellent plan. It'll only make them do what they wanted to in the first place. Since you're handling Theo and the potion, shall I talk discreetly with Harry and Ron about accepting such an unholy union? And by talk discreetly I mean threaten to hex their bits off if they don't."

"Hmm. Perhaps you should wait until after we can see if the plan worked. No use having Weasel blow up and spook the poor dears from going too near the cliff's edge before falling off of it. That being said, Potter might be level-headed enough to keep his mouth shut."

"Harry can take it like a man. He already puts up with Malfoy on a regular basis as it is, and deep down he just wants to see his friends happy. Once Ron started dating again right after breaking up with Hermione, she crawled back into her shell, her cat died, and she focused all her energy on Auror training. I've set her up on the most of the dates she's had since."

"And how did those pan out?" Blaise couldn't help asking.

"Unhappily, I think it's safe to say."

"Well it looks like we've decided on a course of action." Raising his glass, he declared, "A toast: to what will hopefully be a successful night of meddling."

"Cheers," agreed Ginny, clinking her beer glass with Blaise's.

* * *

_Caphette,_

_Lost my in with the group so don't bother keeping security low-key tomorrow. Nearly got offed last night, but Granger fixed me up. Am currently fine at her flat; might bring her back to the Manor later. The Burrow and Manor are protected enough, but order a few good men to set up surveillance around Granger and Potter's flats. Start up the security upon receiving this because now the schedule I knew of could be altered. Go ahead and let Potter know about that and the threats flying around. Call Weasley in too. I'll fill in Granger. Will stop by in the morning to debrief so have the pensieve ready._

_DM_

Sitting at Hermione's kitchen table while she made sandwiches for a late lunch, Draco looked over his note to Head Auror Carmitch Caphette before attaching it to the leg of her barn owl, Phoebe. He opened the window to send it off along with the message he'd written his mother, telling her not to worry about his prolonged absence.

Carmitch was a tough old widower who had graduated alongside Mad Eye Moody from the training program. He had short, salt-and-pepper hair, and a set of gimlet gold eyes that unnerved even the nastiest of criminals. He was well-liked by the Aurors under him for not being afraid to joke around or jump into the fray; the scars covering much of his body attested to the latter. When Draco and Theo were first brought before him, he looked them up and down, and all around before stopping to stare down each of them. Whatever he saw, he seemed to like. "Welcome to the Aurors, boys," he rasped, sounding like there was sawdust coating his throat. "Anyone gives you shit, embrace the green and silver and don't hex them outright. Give them a bit of hell from behind the scenes and let me know so I can keep an eye on them." It turned out Carmitch had been in Slytherin himself, and had no illusions about the distrust that that and being a former Death Eater would garner. Draco in particular had come to look upon the man as a sort of father figure, although he'd disliked him at first for sticking him with Hermione.

Draco came up behind the small woman, wrapping his arms around her trim midsection and dipping his head down to murmur silkily in her ear. "Are you ready for me to tell you what happened last night?"

His proximity caused a shiver to run down her spine, but she didn't allow any other sign of how he was affecting her to show. Continuing to layer the pieces of toast with lettuce, microwaved bacon, and tomato slices, she said, "Yes. And don't leave out the things you think will upset me like I know you're planning to." On this assignment, Draco had already kept most details from her out of necessity; with his true identity known, Hermione would have been a liability had he told her the cell's secrets only to have her get captured. With Draco busy, she had taken to helping out with Harry's cases on the side.

His lips quirked with amusement even as he let out an exasperated sigh. He had only intended on leaving a _little_ chunk out - like the extent of his emotional pain or the bit where he had asked her to the ball to protect her after keeping her in the dark for a whole month. He'd still hold on to that last bit now that the day of the attack was probably moved - and he had actually _wanted _to take her, after all. "Alright, but you asked for it, kitten, remember that."

Sandwiches made, Hermione turned around to look seriously up into his eyes. "I want to know, Draco."

His mercurial orbs darkened for a moment before he pecked her on the cheek, reveling in the fact that he _could_ in a corner of his mind, and reached around to grab one of the sandwiches. He made his way back to the table and after she sat down in the next chair over, he started explaining between bites in a detached, measured voice.

"So you're aware that about a month back, probably a bit more, Carmitch had me dig in with the Sycamore cell that's based over in Bristol but has some of its operations going down in London. You know - underground clubs with passwords, that sort of thing, where you need to have a member vouch for you before being admitted.

"My contact was a man employed by one of Astoria and Daphne's uncles, Afton Greengrass. Afton's still something of a Pureblood fanatic, but he dotes on his nieces, never having had daughters himself. He has a person in everything that's happening just because he likes to be well-informed - for leverage and all. Generally he's very close-lipped, very adherent to proper etiquette and the old ways, but it was different with this group.

"The slogan this cell runs with, while being somewhat creative, is disturbing all the same. 'The Sycamores take Silver for the Second-Class.' They're involved in the trafficking, torture, mutilation, rape, and murder of Muggle and Muggleborn women, along with the requisite pep talks full of nonsense like subjugating Muggles and Pureblood world domination. The phrase comes from the fact that they only take silver sickles for payment at auctions, not gold galleons.

"Afton came to me with the idea to take them down from within when I was visiting the girls and Mrs. Greengrass with my mother one day. He started explaining about the group, and while he refused to say what set him off exactly, I had the feeling it had something to do with Stori and Daphne. Perhaps someone involved came to recruit him, saw them and had unsettling intentions, or maybe his inside man just couldn't get the screams of the other women out of his head." Draco was pale, lost in the awful memories and refusing to meet her eyes.

"My initiation was a five thousand galleon contribution, Legilimency... and to demonstrate slicing curses and the Cruciatus to break down a Muggle girl; she couldn't have been much more than sixteen. They stripped her and bound her in the middle of the room, took turns raping her, and scared her out of her mind. I kept the curses as brief as I could while still satisfying the audience, but I'm never going to get the pleading look in her eyes out of my head." He stopped here to stare down intently at his empty plate, guilt and self-loathing clearly evident on his drawn face.

"I snuck back inside after the meeting to get the layout of the building and stumbled upon the room where she and a couple of others were being kept. They were caged like animals, Hermione. I lit my wand and saw the other two were dead, but that girl I tortured was staring at me, shaking. I told her I was one of the good guys, unlocked the cage and reached toward her, but she just cringed away from the sight of me. Huddled in the farthest corner and started sobbing." Hermione finally placed her hand on his arm, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch before pulling back. "I ended up grabbing her and apparating to St. Mungo's Muggle Wing, handed her to a healer after flashing my badge and told them to fix her up and obliviate her.

"After that I went straight to Carmitch's office and asked him to take me off the case. He was there, not surprising with the crazy hours he keeps, and poured me a drink. He told me that if I chose to quit now that I had been initiated, hurting that girl would have been for nothing, and anyone else we tried to put in place would only have to repeat the process."

A realization dawned on Hermione. On what she was now finally sure was the morning following that first meeting, she had come in to find Draco slumped at her desk with bloodshot eyes, obviously unshaven and unshowered. "That was why you followed me around everywhere that day." She had hit him with a _Scourgify,_ made him eat, and repeatedly asked what she could do to help. But he'd just looked at her, submitting to her ministrations without a word, and scaring most of the people who tried to speak with her.

"That and the fact that there are serious rumors going around in that cell, rumors put about by some of the more influential former Death Eaters of plans for getting revenge on you, Potter, and Weasel for taking down the Dark Lord. The timing of the attack was supposed to be tomorrow, but if they're not complete imbeciles, the schedule I had knowledge of would have changed."

"You didn't need to babysit me that day or tomorrow; you know I can handle myself," she snapped, bristling at the notion he thought she needed a bodyguard and connecting the dots rather quickly.

He could easily read her indignation, and soothed her by explaining that he couldn't tip her off without making her want to take some sort of action that would blow the operation.

"That day was about watching out for anyone acting suspicious toward you, keeping low-key, and keeping my head on straight while I processed what I had done, came to terms with it, and could throw myself back into the job the next day.

"After dirtying my hands to start with, I was able to attend the meetings and auctions as part of the audience, trying to seem more interested in the spectator side of things and the profits that could be made. I wormed my way into the good graces of the higher-ups and they asked me for more financial backing in return for being able to make decisions and getting a cut of the profits. They also asked for information on you and your friends, Auror shift changes, blueprints and the like.

"Carmitch and the Minister approved what information I leaked back to the cell, all the while reporting back on who was involved, how many, the locations for headquarters and other sections, the number of women held captive, layouts, et cetera. I still hadn't made it into the inner circle, but Gunther, who ran the London section I was in, assured me it was only a matter of time before I got called in for a meeting in Bristol with him.

"I'm not sure what gave me away - perhaps I got a bit pushy for information on the plans for revenge on you three, or my own information wasn't good enough. They could have gotten suspicious and probed my mind during a weak moment. It's possible Gunther knew all along that I was acting on the Aurors' behalf if they used Legilimency while I hurt that girl. I doubt I could have concentrated on anything more in that moment than keeping my face blank."

"So what went down last night?"

"The drop point was an ambush. It was getting dark, they'd cast Muggle-repelling charms and anti-apparition wards, and I was taken off guard by a group of five men who disarmed me. They were the thugs who normally guarded the prisoners in return for leftovers. I got some punches off, but they levitated me by my ankle and bound my hands. The big beast of a guy whose nose I broke took that chance to whale on me, but was reprimanded by the leader who yelled at him saying I wasn't to be harmed. Now I don't know if you realize it, but hearing that you're not supposed to be harmed is _only_ good for the fact that it gives you time. I heard Old Voldy give that order whenever he wanted to personally make someone suffer.

"So they let me down and took down the wards and I saw that as my chance. I used a wandless _accio_ to retrieve my wand and activated the emergency portkey I always have in my shoe that goes to Malfoy Manor. Just before I disappeared, I got hit with a truly nasty slashing curse. I arrived and knew that unless I got help soon, I'd bleed out in the foyer for Mother to find me. So I apparated to your flat, aware that you wouldn't be able to apparate directly into the Manor."

"Why not St. Mungo's?"

"It was obvious I required immediate medical attention, so that's the place they would have checked first. That's part of the point in having a field medic."

"You were able to think all of that through while passing out from blood loss?"

"No, it's been a contingency plan I've had for a while in case I got injured. Going to the Manor first stops them from following me because of the unreal amount of wards it's under, and that in turn stops them from coming to your place."

"How thorough. Thorough and _ghastly_. What's to stop them from showing up here just because they know of my medical training and my connection to you?"

"Perhaps they don't want to spook us into moving just yet, and are bringing in the cavalry. Or perhaps they're waiting for us to leave to search the place and set a trap. Or even for us to split up to catch us each alone. I just wrote Carmitch to put a couple extra men on this building and Potter's flat."

"So what do we do now?"

"Well I'm going in to work tomorrow morning to speak with Carmitch, but if you're willing we should really stay at the Manor tonight. It's very nearly impenetrable, and I don't think you should stay here alone, Aurors or not. I might have galvanized them into finally taking action."

Hermione sighed, knowing all his points were valid, but still reluctant to go back to Malfoy Manor. Where she was tortured. And where she might have to face his mother and possibly pretend she and Draco were nothing more than partners. Or break the news that they were... Also torture, either way.

Just as Draco opened his mouth to try to convince her further, she surprised him saying, "Alright. Just let me pack my things."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So yes, lots of heavy filler in the last chapter, but... yeah, no. It had to be done, and more heaviness is below (albeit more exciting and important to the plot I think... and more Draco/Hermione time!). Thank you to my lovely reviewers :) feedback is always much appreciated and seriously makes me write faster. Hope none of you minded the wait and having an OC for their department head. I switched the rating to M as a sweeping precaution and I pretty much scrapped the plan I had for this chapter to start with. Kinda. Ish... You'll see.

Disclaimer: Not mine, except for the plot and OC's I come up with. Happy now? I'm not.

* * *

Friday Evening, March 31, 2000

Apparating into the tastefully decorated entrance hall of Malfoy Manor with her bottomless overnight-bag in hand, holding on tight to Draco, Hermione was taken aback by how different everything seemed. Rich, warm woods and gorgeous paintings complemented Slytherin green walls, and a grand staircase built of multicolored marble led up to the rest of the house. Little alcoves could be seen on the second floor, containing various bronzes set upon plinths, and vases full of fresh spring flowers. Slowly letting go of the man beside her, Hermione asked if it had looked like this before, not trusting the rushed, anxiety-ridden memories she had formed from her last visit.

"No, not at all. It was mostly solid-black marble with green and silver accents scattered throughout. Very cold. Lots of snobbish family portraits, and most of the rooms were rather too opulent - for my tastes anyway. Now as you can see, it's really quite cozy. Mum had a field day redecorating everything," he said with a smile, remembering his mother's enthusiasm and how the process had helped purge so many of the terrible memories associated with their home after Voldemort had taken up residence there.

Just then, one of the two enormous fireplaces on either side of the space, the left one, chimed to announce either a Floo call or a visitor coming through. Draco's brow furrowed. "That's odd; most people use owls to contact us here. It's not like they can get in by Floo with the wards un- " Whatever else he was going to say was cut off swiftly as the fireplace roared to life with green flames and Theo practically flew out of it, crashing into the hard floor with a groan. "Unless I've personally made an exception. Such as in Theo's case," Draco finished dryly, thinking his friend should have been more practiced at his landings by _now_.

Scrambling to his feet at the sound of his name, Theo took the chance to approach and start yelling at them, waving his arms around in an emphatic way that would have been comical were it not for the words pouring out of his mouth almost incoherently. Attempting to steer them toward the fireplace, he shouted, "You two! Come on, get your arses moving! You need to get out of here! If we know then they'll know! We need to get back to the office right now to get you to a safehouse! Your Mum's missing, Drake; we had an Auror following her around but someone strung him up and took your Mum right out from under us - " This last bit was delivered as Theo managed to wedge all three of them into the large fireplace. Darkly cloaked figures began materializing in front of them and started casting Dark curses, only adding to Draco's surprise. Hermione threw up shield charms while Nott threw down the Floo powder and yelled out their destination, and Draco had only just managed to lift his wand to try to help when the flames engulfed them.

Landing on his feet in the empty DMLE bullpen, but jostled into the nearest desk by Theo who'd been next to him, Draco snarled and kicked viciously at the offending piece of furniture, beginning to see red as the shock of it all wore off. Not only had he just found out his _mother_ had been taken by some seriously sick fucks that fucking _hated_ his guts, but his _home_ was no longer safe. _Merlin's tits! _The layers of age-old wards protecting the Manor were _gone_, something that had hitherto seemed like a ridiculous notion. _Salazar's shitty fucking goddamn son of a bitchy motherfucking pricks! _Deciding to punch the wall this time, his thoughts screamed, _Fuck! Fucking bloody BASTARDS!_

With his thoughts hazed over with fury at _them_, at_ himself _for making his Mum a target, and a deep-seated fear for her well-being, Draco felt fully ready to kill someone right then and there. He almost missed the gentle touch on his arm, but his body registered the pressure and turned toward it.

_Hermione. _He looked at her, his mind clawing its way back to reality as he caught a brief flash of emotion in her eyes. _Fear. She was _afraid_ of him._

Draco's rage instantly evaporated. He was absolutely ashamed of himself. He had lost control yet _again _today, and frightened the woman he loved, probably uprooting whatever budding feelings she had started to harbor for him.

But as he watched her, he could see that quick flash of fear had already been replaced with a fierce set to her tawny eyes that told him she was determined. _Determined to do what? She should be looking wary now that I've calmed down, shouldn't she?_ Instead of backing away, she came closer, holding his gaze and moving her hands up to frame his face. She brought her lips within inches of his own by getting on her tiptoes. "Draco Malfoy, this is not your fault, do you hear me? It's Voldemort and these psychotic racist cells who you need to be blaming, _not_ yourself," she told him in a quiet, listen-to-me-you-_idiot_ tone. "You think you _scared_ me just now?" she asked, raising her eyebrows incredulously and watching his own brows draw together in confusion. Hermione leaned even closer, stopping just short of letting their lips meet. The ghost of her breath tickled him as she whispered, "I was scared _for_ you."

Draco wrapped her up in a tight embrace and leaned in the rest of the way, sealing their lips together in a slow, meaningful kiss. An apology... for acting like a nutter. Just as he tilted her head back to taste her, feeling Hermione's tongue brush against his own, there was a loud, "Ahem," that came from across the room. "As much as I am _thrilled_ for you both, we do happen to be on a rather tight schedule." Theo extended a folded umbrella toward the still-intertwined, blushing pair who looked at it with confusion. "It's the portkey to the safehouse and it leaves in about fifteen seconds," he explained curtly. Eyes widening, they immediately grabbed on, not wanting to get left behind.

* * *

So Blaise and the She-Weasel's plan was moot. _About goddamn time._

Theodore Nott paced thoughtfully around the living room of the safe house , a large cottage really, and wondered if Draco and Granger were _together_-enough yet for him to hope that they would share a room. There were only two bedrooms in the place, and he didn't fancy having to sleep on the couch. Which he would do if he had to however because he was a decent person. For the most part. He let out a sigh. His friend had just had a _lot _thrown at him, and Theo knew he loved his mother dearly.

Draco had flipped out at the office, and that would have been quite understandable had it been anyone else, but this was _Draco._ He just didn't _do_ those sorts of things, losing it and punching walls like a normal, infuriated male. Theo would know, after sharing a dormitory with him for six years.

Quickly grabbing the portkey and case file to share with them later, he had turned back to see Hermione step up to the tall, livid blond with her hand outstretched. The words formed in Theo's mouth to warn her back, but then she touched the man's arm and Draco practically deflated like a balloon. _Interesting._ In a surprisingly tender manner, Granger then proceeded to tell him off about something - Theo couldn't understand their low tones to know exactly what was being said - and then they started _snogging. Fantastic,_ he couldn't help but snark in his head, unable to quell the slight stab of jealousy that sprang up in him.

Theo had turned to watch the clock instead of the lip locked couple, giving them privacy while counting down the seconds to when the portkey became active. Just how Caphette had connected their portkey to activate ten minutes after an anti-theft charm was set off at the Manor, signaling their arrival, he was unsure, but it was genius. The old Auror still knew his way around a wand.

Theo's pacing was interrupted by Hermione calling out that dinner was ready. He would have cooked for them himself, but Granger had insisted and he gave in, knowing that his own skills in the kitchen needed work. _Draco's are probably nonexistent,_ he thought with small smirk. Coming to the table where a simple meal of spaghetti with marinara sauce and canned green beans was laid out on three plates, he sat down on one end and waited for the other two to take their seats. A newly showered Draco came in just as Hermione sat next to Theo, a glass of water in her hand.

Taking his place on the other side of Hermione, Draco broke the tentative silence first. "The Auror guarding my Mum, who was he?" he asked, apprehension coloring his tone.

Theo retained his calm mask in the face of the questions he'd _known_ were coming, but swallowed nervously and paused before he spoke. "I would have rather left that until after dinner, but then you'd only think the absolute worst if I didn't give you an answer... Granger, I'm sorry, it was one of the people you knew pretty well. Seamus Finnegan." Hermione inhaled sharply, her already wide eyes filling to the brim with tears that slowly, quietly began to spill over; Draco, hating himself for his inability to let the topic lie until after they'd eaten, moved his chair closer to wrap his arm around her shoulders and bring her to his chest. Theo solemnly excused himself to the couch in the living room, taking his plate and leaving the two to comfort each other.

Already having had time to process the news, Theo dreaded having to tell them just _how_ Finnegan had died. Nastily, painfully, and with a message_._ It would probably inspire a repeat performance of tears on Granger's part, and sicken Draco to his core...

Seamus had been gutted like a fish and hanged down in Knockturn Alley. A small piece of heavy, black parchment was pinned on his chest, reading, 'Your Mum for the Mudblood,' in a swirly, silver script. It had been signed in silver wax imprinted with a sickle.

Theo may not have been aware of Draco's exact mission, but he understood enough of his friend's job to know he had pissed off whatever cell he'd been working with up until now. The message could only be directed at Draco considering it was _his_ Mum who had been taken, but the Mudblood bit made Theo wonder... Could that mean Granger? It had to be. But did the cell want her to cause Draco pain, assuming they knew she was at least his partner, if not more, or did they have plans for her?_ These are Slytherins; of course there are plans for someone that integral in the war effort. Devastating him is just an added bonus._

Nott pondered in silence, finishing his food before heading back to the kitchen to confirm that Granger had indeed cried herself out. Draco was still close to her with his right hand resting on her knee while they ate. Neither spoke when they saw him enter, deposit his plate in the sink, and lean back against the counter with his arms crossed. _Why do I have to be the one to do this? Why not Caphette? _he thought fervently, wishing that the recently calmed atmosphere could just _stay_ calm.

The two at the table understood Theo's signal that he was ready to talk when they were, so they swallowed their last bites and shifted the chairs around to face him, hands clasped firmly. His mouth turned down in the corners, and his eyes were hooded, imparting a sense of dread.

"Whatever you have to tell us is going to be even worse than someone dying, isn't it?" Hermione posited in a small voice filled with anxiety. "Theo, just spit it out, _please._"

He sighed helplessly at her plea and began to explain everything that had occurred since that afternoon. "Caphette got your owl earlier and placed Aurors on both Potter's and Granger's flats in Muggle London and in the Weasleys' joke shop in Diagon Alley. He also assigned one Auror to the Manor and a few to the Burrow; they were to explain to Narcissa, Molly, and Arthur that they had to accompany them whenever they wanted to go out, except for Arthur's job at the Ministry. Granger, the Ministry protection on your parents has also been beefed up in case you were wondering." She nodded and he continued. "Narcissa already had plans apparently, so Seamus tagged along shopping with her before she was supposed to meet up with the Greengrasses at a fancy new bistro. She had some business in Knockturn Alley to take care of, and that's where Finnegan was found." As Theo went on to describe the state of Seamus' body, Hermione turned a greenish color and Draco remained outwardly calm, unable to keep from blanching, however, when Theo came to the message all three of them knew was meant for him.

"You're certain the signature was the imprint of a sickle?" he inquired in a strained tone. Theo nodded, handing him the case file that had pictures of the evidence in it. "And you're still not sure how the Manor was stripped of its protections?" Another frustrated nod.

"It's the Sycamore cell, isn't it, Draco? They want me in exchange for your Mum..." Hermione trailed off, her eyes empty and staring but the cogs and gears in her mind grinding away.

"So we're going to have to either go in and get her, forcibly or through trickery, or negotiate with them for something else," Draco stated matter-of-factly.

"Or... We could give them what they want," Hermione supplied thoughtfully, chewing on her lip.

_Looks like it's going to be the couch tonight_, Theo thought morosely, heading to the bathroom to avoid the entire discussion and hopefully drown it out with a shower if they started yelling.

"Absolutely not," Draco icily declared.

An indignant, "I'm perfectly capable of this!" put a dangerous glint in the blond's eyes and prompted the even-toned rant that cut off her next sentence.

"You'd be all by yourself and surrounded by a bunch of psychotic bastards bent on revenge. They intend to make a public statement with your body. Don't even try to tell me that you're hoping to rely on backup, because these are _Slytherins_, Hermione. You're valuable so they won't make the place they take you to easy to find or track. Either they would hold you hostage to lure Potty and Weasel out and complete the set, maybe have a bit of _fun_ with you during your stay, or they would torture and rape you relentlessly before cutting you up into tiny bits and delivering said bits in some awful, dramatic fashion that would devastate the Wizarding World. _And _your friends. _And me. _It is the _worst _possible plan, love. Even a reckless Gryffindor like you can understand that just charging into this situation will only get you killed, no matter how adept at _taking care of yourself _you happen to be."

Her lip curled and anger flashed darkly in her eyes at the blunt words that hurt all the more because they were true. "So since you seem to know so much, what's the plan? Hmm? Just how do you intend on rescuing your mother if you can't even locate them to begin with, _partner_?" Hermione bit out, bitterly pleased to see Draco flinch at the title she had tacked on at the end. They had agreed that they were seeing each other exclusively following their joint epiphany at her flat, but all the affection she felt for him got tossed to the sidelines when he started trying to tell her how to do her job.

Draco ducked his head and raked a hand through his hair like he always did when frustration took over. "If you give me some time, I'll _think_ of one. Caphette's had a bird's-eye view of this case the whole time so I guarantee he's going to contact us sometime soon with his _own_ ideas."

"Fine," Hermione told him coldly, standing stiffly and still pinning him with a glare. He hated that expression on her face, the one that froze out the compassion and humanity in her eyes, the one that said he had hurt her with his vote of no confidence. It told him he was scum for making her feel like a child.

He certainly _felt_ like scum now, but would not change his position in this argument for anything. He just wanted to to get rid of the look on her face, and decided to sacrifice his pride to tell her the biggest reason he wouldn't condone such a plan. "Hermione... you know the logical choice is not to give yourself up. And it's selfish, but _I_ refuse to give you up. Not for _this_. Not for a suicide mission. We're going to get my Mum back some other way, but I need you to realize that at this point... you're all I have left."

Draco knew now he had succeeded in melting her chilly attitude. She had bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut to stop any tears from forming, and when she began speaking again, it sounded shaky and tired more than anything else. "No, I'm not. We may be together but I'm not the only person in your world. You have Blaise and Theo in your support system too."

He moved in front of her and grasped her hands to intertwine their fingers. "I meant out of the two people in my world that I love," he said softly, throwing caution to the wind in his quest to make her understand. Her head snapped up to look into his vulnerable, grey eyes.

"What?" she breathed. "You... love me?" Her eyes were wide and disbelieving, still bright with unshed tears.

"Yes, Hermione. I am _in _love with you. I don't expect you to say it back right now, but my feelings should have been obvious this morning when I practically shut down on your living room floor."

"But... _why_ did you? Shut down like that, I mean," she inquired curiously, as he shifted closer so that their chests were touching and she had to crane her neck to keep eye contact with him.

"Because I never believed I would be able to love someone, that I was even capable of that. Growing up under my father, knowing all my past mistakes as a Death Eater, all the terrible, nightmarish things I've seen and done in my short time working with these cells, I didn't think anyone could come to really care about me, as emotionally scarred as I am. Until I saw that picture on the wall and realized that my heart wasn't defective, that I _did _have all of that, and it had been staring me in face this entire time."

"Oh, Draco," she whispered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as she reached up on her toes to give him a soft kiss. He let go of her right hand to tangle his left in her hair, returning the action reverently, passionately, pulling away to kiss her face and neck at times but always returning to her lips. He did his best to memorize her face, the feel of her skin, her unique scent, trying to drink her in while telling her how much she meant to him without words. Her free hand cupped the side of his face, before slipping down his neck to rest flat on his pounding heart.

Pulling back for air and shifting the hand in her hair to rub up and down her back, Draco dropped her other hand now to cover the one on his chest. Looking deeply into her darkened gaze, he said quietly, "It's yours, love. It's all yours."

She took a deep breath, her own chest bursting with a warmth she'd never felt before. To see the naked love and devotion in his eyes, in _Draco's _silver eyes, directed towards her made her want to laugh and cry and sing all at once. It felt _right,_ like she could drown in those eyes forever. Without overthinking her next actions, she glanced down and maneuvered their hands from his chest to hers, covering his hand and setting it just above her own fast-thumping heart.

Moving her warm chocolate orbs back to his own, which were now filled with an ardent spark of hope, she replied just as quietly, "It belongs to you, Draco." She tilted up to capture his smiling lips once more before whispering, "I love you too."

With a slight groan he buried his face in her shoulder and they hugged each other tightly, each closing their eyes and not noticing when Theo came out of the bathroom, perplexed with the turn of events.

_Well I may not have heard screaming, but that_ still_ didn't turn out the way I thought it would... The small bedroom for me it is then._

* * *

A/N: Woo! You let those emotions OUT Draco :) Anyone up for sexytimes next chapter? I'm still undecided... Don't hurt me if I include them but decide to skim over the details! And who's up for more Theo?


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